


Once More Unto The Breach

by MadasaMoriarty



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Altered Mental States, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Light Angst, Medical Inaccuracies, Memory Loss, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 15:47:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13274718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadasaMoriarty/pseuds/MadasaMoriarty
Summary: The Doctor has lost the Ponds and his mind.He's taken to a mental institution where he meets a young Rose Tyler before she began her job at Hendrick's.The Doctor feels an instant connection. But who is this girl? And why does she pull at his broken memories?





	Once More Unto The Breach

"Excuse me! Sir? You alright?"

The stranger whirled to face the man, squinting into the darkness the flickering street lamps did nothing to alleviate and his face broke into a heady smile.

"Hello! Judoon! Ha!" he stumbled forward and the officer wasn't sure if he was drunk or just sincerely uncoordinated. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be on the moon?" without waiting for an answer he pressed on. "You haven't seen any ducks around here have you? Or possibly a roman?" He fumbled at his nose suggestively.

"Are you alright sir?" The officer asked, watching the man curiously. The stranger scowled.

"Or course I'm alright I'm always alright. I'm always a man too, never been a girl before, that's a good thing I think. Other people have been girls but I suspect they're rather better at it then I am. What about you? Have you ever been a girl?" This time it seemed he expected an answer and he studied the policeman with genuine interest.

"I think you should come with me sir." He said slowly, offering a hand.

"Really? That's interesting... have you ever thought that before? Because I haven't, still don't. I'm rather happy right here I think...that might not last though I tend to get bored. Where are you going?"the stranger stared at the man's back as the copper turned, whispering into his radio.

"Okay sir. I'm gonna need you to come with me. If you do not or if you resist I will have to use force."

"Oh...Not very nice are you? All the same thanks for the warning. You don't have a gun do you? I abhor guns!"

"It is a requirement for my job."

"Oh. There you see, I like you even less now. And this all started off so well. Still...things to do, people to see. So, where do you want to start?"

The officer, which the stranger decided to dub Turtle, after his rather domed head, took him by the arm and began to lead him down the street, stopping beside a dingy looking police car and fumbling at the door.

"Ooh! Look! Flashy lighty things! I like flashy lighty things, I think, also crayons. Have you got a crayon? A nice blue one? Maybe a little ketchup and mustard, with some fried sheep's eyes, you would be surprised how good fried sheep's eyes taste after a week of nothing but Blurg bread. Enough ketchup and you barely notice the squishy bits. Are you a chameleon? You look a bit green. But then I suppose you are a turtle."

"Get in." Turtle choked, gesturing feebly.

"Thanks. Does your car have a name? My car had a name her name was Bessy, or was it Sexy? Have you seen any ponds around here?" the man was talking so fast it was hard for Turtle to keep up, so when he stopped expectantly the officer got a bit whip lashed.

"Er...No. No ponds for a few miles around the city."

"Really? Not one? Strange. How about a river? Got one of those have you?"

"No." Turtle replied shortly, keeping his eyes fixed on the road as he pulled away from the curb.

"Oh. I had one once, a river, it died though the computer ate it. But it came back, rivers do that I think. So do I. So do roses. Have you got a Rose?" the question seemed of the utmost importance and the man leaned forward in his seat as if craving his answer.

"Sure. Lots of people got roses."

"Really? Have you got one? Can I have one? Why can't I have one?!" he demanded without waiting for the officer's answer.

"Look buddy, you find a rose you like you can have it." Turtle assured him, hoping against hope that he wouldn't take this as permission to rip up somebody's flower bed. The stranger beamed.

"You know what...I like you Turtle. Especially when you're not green!"

'Turtle' wasn't quite sure what to think of that statement.

 

"Look, Marge. This guy wouldn't hurt the grass he walks on! I just don't want to put him in lock up with a bunch of drunken punks and come back to his shredded corpse, just admit him for a few days, I'm sure someone will come looking for him."

Marge looked over her horn rimmed spectacles at officer Spencer's slumped form and clicked her gum uncertainly.

"I don't know Spence, there's too much about this guy we don't know! What if we gave him something and it ended up harmin' the little loonbug?"

"Please Marge, I'm beggin' here, it's either this or a night at the station..." He trailed away both of them moving to peer over his shoulder at the stranger he'd brought with him. He was standing in the middle of the hallway staring intently at a flickering light but when he saw them he leaped forward.

"Hello! Good to see you, where are my patients?" He leaned over the counter and fixed Marge with an easy smile, his eyes shining with a youthful integrity that undermined his size. Marge sighed and gave Spencer a bitter look.

"No patients tonight hon, only bed."

"Bed? Oh wonderful, sleep well, see you in the morning then. Come along Turtle." He spun on his heel and made to stride toward the door but the officer stopped him quickly.

"Not for me hon," Marge shook an admonishing finger, her gum clicking away between her teeth. "Now we'll just sort a few questions and get you situated. Name?"

The stranger smiled at her, his expression empty of comprehension. Marge gave him a level look through her specs. "You got a name right hon?"

"Oh," the grin on his face widened if that was possible and he began to pat himself down. "Lets see, I'm sure I have you around here somewhere..." His voice faded as his hands disappeared down what suddenly seemed like cavernous pockets.

"Yeah, I'll just put Smith 'kay Lovely? And we'll figure out the rest later."

"Yes! I'm a Smith sometimes I think, but not always! Only sometimes..."

Marge nodded easily as the man rambled away into mumbles.

"Alright age?"

"Old, Victorian age probably, possibly the age of rock... maybe both."

"No, how old are you?" the receptionist bit back a sigh. It had been a while since she'd met someone this over the moon, most of her patients at least knew the gist of their general information.

"Old. Very old, I've been around a few times, knocking down blocks, I'm eleven I think? That's a good age isn't it? Eleven?"

"Lovely." Marge agreed scribbling down a neat 24. "You know if you're allergic to anything sweets?"

"Pears. I hate pears. Or I used to...bacon! I hate bacon, that's poison that is." he sniffed self righteously, pulling at the crooked maroon bow about his neck.

Marge kept up her easy nodding, ignoring officer Spencer's quiet snickering in the background.

"Okay, I think that's enough information to live with, Spence? Why don't you show Mr. Smith to his room?" She held out a key, giving Turtle a level look that Smith followed with interest.

"OH! Are you staying here Turtle? Is that what this is some sort of hotel?" his blinding smile frazzled into a frown. "It's not got gorillas in it has it?"


End file.
